


Where the Truth Led Me

by shinkonokokoro



Category: The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The one thing that has haunted me my entire life is finding out the truth about my parents.'<br/>Peter embarks on a quest to discover exactly that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Truth Led Me

**Author's Note:**

> I tried. I tried REALLY hard not to write this fic.  
> Alas, the inspiration was too strong...
> 
> This is inspired by [this](http://shinkonokokoro.tumblr.com/post/26701612697/capcheeks-au-where-steve-and-tony-were-killed) gifset.  
> Probably best to view it before beginning reading.

 “Shit! Steve!” Natasha said quietly.

Tony whirled away from the Chitauri ship, blasting it. “What?” he demanded back over the comms. “What happened to Steve?”

Natasha's voice continued stiffly, “Nothing. We're fine. Keep going.”

He didn't believe it for a second, heart pounding dangerously. “Black Widow. Update on Captain America.”

“Thor's with him,” she said tightly.

“That doesn't answer my question,” he grit out, repusloring an alien to the face to cover Clint. He zipped back towards Steve's last location.

“Iron Man! Stay in your zone,” Natasha ordered.

“Fuck that,” Tony pushed himself faster, needing to see Steve for himself. Needing to see his husband. If he was fine, why wasn't he saying anything.

But then Fury came on the line about the nuke.

Gritting his teeth, he steeplechased through a Chitauri squadron and down to where he could see Thor's red cape swirling. He was beating off the aliens, standing over a prone form, Mjolnir in one hand, Cap's shield in the other.

He couldn't breath.

Steve.

Landing hard, he lashed out with everything he had. “Steve! Steve, can you hear me?”

“He is fallen, Man of Iron,” Thor grunted, staggering under a hard hit.

“No!”

“I cannot resuscitate him.” Thor's voice broke. “He has expired. I am sorry, Anthony...”

Blank noise rushed in his ears. He collapsed next to Steve while Jarvis quietly told him there was no pulse, no signs of life.

“Tony. The nuke i—”

“Shut. _Up_.” He slammed a Chitauri to the ground. Closed his eyes. _Steve_. His... He... Lying on the ground. So still. He choked. Was thrown to the ground himself as a Chitauri staff took him in the gut. That was going to leave a mark. He knew how to end this.

“Antho—”

He threw himself into the air, to escape Thor's platitudes. Whirling, he flew with every ounce of power he had towards the bomb.

“Friends, Anthony has—” he heard Thor begin.

“Jarvis, comms off. No incoming or outgoing,” he said flatly, bringing up the nuke on his display. He spun and got himself up under it, heading towards the portal at the top of his building. “Jarvis. Call Peter's cell phone.”

“Are you certain, Sir? Miss Potts—”

“No. Peter's phone. I'll leave a message,” he said, voice thick.

“Yes, Sir.”

The phone rang, the suit shuddering as he steadied the bomb.  _Hello! This is Peter Parker Stark! Right, Daddy? Right, baby-boy. Keep going. Oh. Right. Uh, leave a message when the phone beeps! BEEP. Just kidding. Now's the real beep. Good, da—beep._ “Pete!” he said brightly. “Hey. Listen, I know you're probably in school right now. I just wanted to call...” He swallowed, his throat tight, wanting to spill all the secrets. But he couldn't. Their identities were secret. Iron Man wasn't Tony anymore. Iron Man was Tony's body-guard. “I uh...just wanted to call and say I love you. Think I forgot this morning, baby-boy.” One last chance to call him the nickname. “Yeah, Steve and I are in Manhattan, but we'll be okay.” The lie broke his heart in two. “So... yeah. Be smart. You know you are. Love you so much, Pete. Okay. Okay, later.” And hung up. 

“Miss Potts, Sir?”

He bit his lip. “Yeah. Call her.”

The line rang and he bit his lip hard as he grazed the building, blood hitting his tongue.

“Tony?! Tony, oh my God! I—”

“Shut up, Pep. I need you now...” He broke off for a steadying breath. “I need you to make sure Pete gets everything.”

“Tony?” Worry flooded her tone. “What ar—”

“Just listen! Company goes to you. Peter's major share holder. It's all in the will. Make sure his college fund stays untouched. Don't... Don't let him get into trouble.”

“Tony... Are you...coming back?” She asked, voice thick. She'd be crying in a second.

“Steve's dead.”

There was a sharp inhale.

Tony went up, and up.

“Tony you come home! Please! Come home! Don't leave him! Don't leave us!” Pepper pleaded, breaking in and out as he passed through the portal. “Ple—sssk—ny!”

“Bye, Pep. You're the best,” he whispered as the line went dead. He let go of the nuke on its collision course with the alien ship and watched it glide through space. His part was done. He was done. The ship blew, exploding in reds and yellows and oranges and shadows. As the light faded, he shut his eyes and let himself drift.

The last thing he was aware of was Jarvis's concerned alarms and the feel of earth gravity pulling him home like a lover into an embrace. He opened his eyes and saw blue sky before he hit and everything went black.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Dad and Pop were buried at Arlington.

I was young. Ten. Now I'm eighteen. Eight years. And I'm standing in front of their graves. Side-by-side. Pop's is traditional white marble with script writing. Dad's is a dark onyx with blocky lettering. Side-by-side. Like they always were in life. I shoved my hands further in my pockets. Touch the old phone I can't get rid of. Dad gave it to me when I was young. The thing's a StarkPhone, so even nine years old, the thing is still light-years ahead of anything else you can buy on the market. And Dad's last voicemail is on there. The one where he told me he'd be home soon? The one where he told me that they'd be fine?

I struggled not to cry. Their graves were always clean. Always decorated. Some years, on the anniversary of their death, there were flowers by the time I got there. Small bouquets. Humble. Nothing like the lavish wreaths Stark Industries always put on top of the stones.

I sat. Wrapped my arms around my knees.

“Hey,” I choked out roughly. “Hey, Dad. Pop. I got into Princeton. Got into Yale. Sure you'd be proud to know. Sorry, Dad, MIT didn't take me. That's fine...” He paused. “Pop, I don't even know what college you went to... I uh... I miss you guys. A lot. I can't even tell you...”

They'd been buried with incredible honours. Apparently they'd done something heroic for some people during the alien attack. Saved some lives. Which didn't surprise him. That was his dads. More Steve than Tony, but when it came down to it, there's nothing Dad wouldn't do to help people out. Steve was an everyday hero. He was kind and warm-hearted, generous with his time and affection. He and Dad had clearly been so in love.

“Why did you lie to me?” I cried finally, tears slipping down my cheeks. “You said you'd come home...” I dropped my head to my knees and let myself cry a little.

The longer I thought about it, the more none of it made sense. I was old enough now. I could know something was off. I could watch the televised ceremony all the way through. See my little self, standing next to Miss Potts by the grave. Crying. There were lots of people there. Lots of people liked my dads. But they got too many honours for civilians. My Uncle Rhodey used to tell me about them. My dads. And what their awards meant. I'd looked some of them up. It didn't make sense. And everywhere I turned to look, I got shut down. No one wanted to answer my questions anymore. No one wanted to talk about it.

I had always blamed the Avengers. If they'd done their jobs, then Dad and Pop wouldn't have had to risk their lives to help. Getting themselves killed.

Which is why when I'd somehow managed to get my own superpowers, I helped the little people. The ones who couldn't ask for help or help themselves.

“I wonder if you'd be proud of me...” I whispered. I'd done some good. For all that the papers seemed to brand me a menace. I'd done good. I know I had.

My senses pricked danger and I was on my feet. A woman in black and fiery hair startled. “Oh. Sorry,” I said, not sure why I was apologising. A look of fondness crossed her face before it turned into a blank mask.

“It's fine, Peter.”

“Do I know you?” I asked casually, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder.

She shook his head. “You're the Stark kid.”

“Yeah.” Didn't mean I was famous though. Dad had worked hard to keep me out of the public eye, unlike his own childhood. “Who are you?”

“Natalie Rushman,” she said with a smile. She skirted around me and laid two simple bouquets of flowers on the graves. Both Dad and Pop's favourite flowers: red and gold roses and blue cornflowers respectively.

“How did you know them?” Something doesn't feel right about her. She just gave me a smile and patted the gravestones before turning to walk away. “What did you know about them?” I shouted after her running to close the distance. My senses still screamed danger, but she seemed harmless “Did you work together?”

She paused and then looked back at me, a short blonde guy appearing from...somewhere... to join her. “You could say that.”

They left then, before I could ask any more questions. When I turned around again, there were more flowers. Ones strange and foreign-looking. I shook my head and left. I'd heard thunder anyway.

When I got home, I searched 'Natalie Rushman.' There was hardly anything. Some some CV that said she'd worked at Stark Industries briefly. So I called Pepper.

“Oh. Yes. She worked here briefly. She was a personal assistant. Where did you find that name, Peter,” Pepper asked.

“I ran into her at the cemetery,” I said softly.

“Oh.”

“Did she work with...Dad?”

“She was here for about several months when you dad was still CEO, yes.”

My mind churned. Why was she bringing him flowers if she'd only worked a few months. Had they— “Oh God! Did Dad  _cheat_ on Pop?!” I blurted. 

“What?” Pepper finally sounded like she was paying attention. “What? No.  _No_ ! Peter. No. God. No, Tony never cheated on Steve. He would never...”

“Then why would she bring him flowers?! That doesn't—”

“I don't know, Peter,” Pepper said, exasperated. “I don't know, honey. Just let it go. Stop thinking about it. Listen, I have to go. I'm in the middle of a meeting. But you know I always take your calls. I have to go. Let's have dinner soon, okay?”

More question-dodging. “Okay... Fine.” After she hung up, I went back to the computer. I went back over her resume, trying to figure out where she came from.

“Peter...?”

I jumped, looking up. “Peggy...”

“Sorry if I startled you, sweetie...” She smiled at me kindly. Peggy was always kind. She volunteered to live with me after...after my dad's died. She'd known Steve when he was young, and Tony's dad, and wanted to get out where she was living. So she came to stay with me. Dad's house was certainly big enough. She was pretty old, but I liked the company, and she gave the best hugs, and made the best strudel. “It's getting late... Don't you want supper?”

Geeze, I'd been researching for hours... “Yeah.... Sorry. Time got away from me.”

“Happened to your father and  _his_ father all the time,” she smiled. Placing a papery hand on my back, she rubbed gently. “Wash your hands and come down, my sweet.”

I nodded, scrubbed at my eyes and sighed. “Meet you downstairs.” I'd been looking for hours and I was no closer to knowing who Natalie Rushman was than when I started. All the places she'd 'worked' were shell corporations, all owned by someone else. One of them was actually owned by Dad, but he never really did anything with it. One of the others, however, was owned by SHIELD.

I was in the middle of eating with Peggy when I suddenly realised: I'd seen Natalie before. Her red hair, passive face. “Shit.”

“Peter!”

“Sorry, Aunt Peggy! Sorry!” I wiped my mouth and swallowed my food, before dropping my napkin next to my plate and scampering out of my chair. I ran into the living room and flicked the TV on, scrolling down to the funeral footage recorded on the DVR.

“Peter...?” Peggy frowned, following me. “What is it?”

“I  _know_ her!” I scrolled through the programme, seeing myself next to Pepper, until I finally found the other redhead. There she was. Stone-faced in black. Standing next to—standing next to that blonde guy! Well. A short one. There was a monstrously tall blonde guy just behind her, face distraught and crying. I frowned. Next to him was a shorter man, brown-haired with glasses. Pretty bland. But he looked broken, frown lines deep on his face. On the other side of the short blonde guy was a black man with an eye-patch. I stared, jaw dropping. That was Nick Fury. My eyes scanned over the paused image again. The big blonde guy. That was Thor. “Bloody hell...” I breathed. The Avengers. The Avengers were at my dads' funeral.

“Peter!” Peggy chastised again, a bit horrified. Not that she should be. I learned to swear from her, after all. When she thought I couldn't hear her do it.

“Holy shit...” I said again, sagging onto the sofa.

“Peter...?” The sofa sagged and then her arm was around me.

“Aunt Peggy...” I said slowly, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen. “Why were the Avengers at my dads' funeral?”

Peggy blinked. “Were they?”

“Yes!” I cried. “Right there! That's them! Eye-patch guy! That's Nick Fury. Director of SHIELD. Big guy? That's Thor. The blonde guy must be Hawkeye. Redhead. Has to be Black Widow. Maybe the brown-haired guy is Captain America or Iron Man!”

“You don't know that, Peter...” she said gently.

“Yes I do!” I shouted, jumping up. “It  _is_ ! Why were they there. What do you know?”

“Peter, I don't kn—”

“Everyone's dodging my questions! Pepper knows something she won't tell me,  _you_ know something you won't tell me!” I was getting hysterical. I couldn't help it.

“I don't know the Avengers, sweetie...”

“Stop being  _nice_ !” I shouted. “I  _know_ you know something! Why won't anyone tell me! Why did Dad and Pop have to die! Did they feel guilty? For letting Dad and Pop die? Is that why they leave flowers every year? I can't think of who else would! Why won't anyone  _tell_ me anything! I just want to know what happened!” I cried. Peggy dropped her eyes. “Did you know I can't find _anyone_ who said they saw my Dad and Pop? No one. Saw them. No one! They supposedly helped all these people! Well where are they! Huh!”

Peggy didn't look at me. Her shoulders shook slightly and her hand came up to press over her mouth.

Crying.

I turned away, ashamed. Dropped the remote and walked away.

And somehow ended up at the door to my dad's workshop. Leaned my back against the door and slid down it to the floor.

“Is there anything I may help you with, Sir?”

I sighed. “No. Thanks, Jarvis...”

“Indeed, Sir. Were you wishing to enter the workshop?”

“No. Maybe. I don't know... Doesn't matter. I can't get in anyway.” Dad always locked it down when he wasn't in it. And I didn't have the code. Only Steve, Pepper, and Rhodey. And they'd all been locked out on his death.

“I believe, Sir, after all this time, there may be a way to circumvent the system.”

I straightened. “What?”

“You are, Sir, eighteen. That is the legal age of adult. And upon adulthood, everything was to be given over to you.”

“What?” I was on my feet. “Jarvis! Then let me in!”

The door whooshed open with the smell of recycled air. Slowly the lights flickered on. I stared. Everything. Just as Dad had left it. Screens flickered on with projects Dad had been working on. Being sealed, there wasn't any dust. DUM-E and U beeped at me as they came online, rolling over excitedly.

“Hey guys...” I murmured. “Been a while...” I stayed at the outskirts of Dad's workshop, just looking. Half-finished projects littered the floor, along with parts that I couldn't even guess what they were. Dad never did write stuff down... His tools. Car parts. His cot. The big sketch that Pop had done for Tony, framed, hanging on a wall. Other smaller sketches tacked up around it. A crap-ton of myself, bunches of Tony working. And then the framed painting that Dad had made Pop do... I sank down to the floor, bunching my knees to my chest to stare at it. Dad, making a funny face at me. Steve with an exaggerated eye-roll. It was one of the rejects for the professional family portraits Dad had wanted us to take together when I was really little. He hired a photographer, got in a suit, made Pop dress up nice, and they put me in a fancy little toddler suit. I, as the story went, refused to behave, so Tony tried to make me smile, and Steve just got frustrated with the entire thing.

They did eventually get the photo. It hung in the main hall. This was more personal though. And Tony had commandeered a copy of the photo and made Steve paint it.

I sat and stared at the picture, tears burning my eyes until they slid down my cheeks. But I was the only one down here. And Jarvis certainly wasn't going to judge me. So. I allowed myself to cry hard for the first time in a long time.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

I'd apologised to Peggy and things were fine between us. I didn't think she knew of my nightly going-out habit. But she seemed to be watching me more carefully. So I was more careful. Stopped a few car-thiefs. Stopped a mugging or two. Rescued a guy whose store was being held up. Had canned beans chucked at my head as way of a reward. But no cuts. Just bruises. So I was in the clear.

But, with the information about Natalie Rushman, which no doubt had to be a fake name, I had to somehow get to SHIELD. And since SHIELD liked to fly around the sky, I'd have to find a big enough building, get enough momentum to fling myself high enough into the air to get up there. And find one Nick Fury. And ask him about my dad's. Won't Jameson have a ball with that. Spider-Man doesn't play nice with the Avengers! I snorted, taking a night in to plan. The next night, with the aid of the Empire State building and a convenient crane two buildings over, I was able to fling myself into the air and then glide on the webs I'd slung beneath my arms towards the helicarrier. Until, of course, I was in range to sling myself onto the helicarrier walls. Scrambling around the outside of the thing, way up in the air was terrifying, with all the winds. But I needed to find Fury's office. Which, as sense would have it, was not on the outside. Man apparently didn't need a window. Was he too good for windows? What did windows ever do to him.

I shook my head and found a window I could get in without breaking anything and dropped into someone's room. Their computer was on and logged-in, so they must have just stepped away. Or they were really stupid. But I was able to bring up an employee list that gave office designations. No layout, unfortunately, so I'd have to find my own way. But Fury was apparently on the fourth floor. I was on the second.

Slipping back out the window, I paused. Up or down. Up was logical. Two windows up and I found my in, dropping into someone's office. Door locked, easily opened from the inside. I poked my head out, no one around, and found I was, indeed, on the fourth level. Adrenaline high, I was able to make my way down to the end of the hall, unseen by both camera and human eye. Fury's office is down at the end of the hall, completely surrounded on all sides, paranoid bastard. And guarded.

But distractions are my middle name, and I sent them checking out the other hall and slipped in when their backs were turned. “Fury.”

“Wanna tell me why you're bothering me, spider boy?”

“Spider- _Man_ , actually. I earned it,” I said casually, folding my arms and leaning against the door.

“Doesn't change the question, kid. Whadda you want?” Fury leaned back and rested his linked hands on his stomach.

“The truth.” I paused for breath.

“That's a tall order. About what?” Fury smirked.

“Wait for it! I want the truth about what happened with Steve and Tony Stark.”

“What?” Fury's face screwed up in surprise. “Shit, son, you snuck all the way in here to ask me _that_?”

“Let's just say I've got a vested interest...” I said casually. “Just tell me truth and I'll be all out of your hair, Fury. Promise. That's all I want.”

Fury snorted.

“No seriously. That's all I want.” I flipped forward and landed on the edge of Fury's desk. “Ya gonna tell me? Or what?”

“Or what?” Fury said, undaunted.

I webbed Fury to the chair when he rolled his eyes. “Dude, I'm serious.”

“Apparently...” Fury laughed.

My hand snapped out to grab his collar. “Do not! Mess with me!”

Fury's expression of amusement vanished. “Son. You let go of me right now.”

“Tell me what happened,” I demanded. “Steve and Tony Stark were afforded military honours for service and bravery at their funeral. But they were civilians. They had saved a crowd of people with their 'quick reactions and brave deeds.' However, there are no eye-witness records or recordings of either Steve Stark or Tony Stark doing those deeds. Therefore, there is clearly something that isn't right.”

Fury sighed and looked heavenward. “Steven Rogers Stark and Anthony Edward Stark both saved millions of lives that day.”

“How.” Cold crept up my bones as my attention focused in on Fury, hand still gripped tight in the front of his shirt.

“Because Steve lead the team that beat down the Chitauri, and Stark dropped the bomb on them,” Fury said flatly, eye dark and focused on my face.

“Oh God...” I wobbled.

Fury said nothing.

“That's why the Avengers were at their funeral... Captain America and Iron Man...?” I asked, my voice distressingly small. “The whole time...?” My hand slipped from Fury's collar as I fell back, staggering on my feet. “I thought... I thought D—Tony was done being Iron Man?”

A brief flash of compassion crossed Fury's face. “Son—”

“I'm not your son!” I shrieked.

“They were good men. I was sad to see them g—”

“ _No_! You don't get to say that!” I grabbed my head. All those times...! They'd _lied_ to me! Every time they rushed out, Dad with a flashed grin of how he had to go get some stuff done at the office or Pepper would kill him—time changes, never got the hang of it, business in Taiwan! Pop complaining of a job at the precinct that needed his attention. A cop. I should have known. I didn't know where he'd gone to school, or much of anything about his childhood. Go figure. It all happened more than seventy years ago... I kicked the door open and threw myself through the halls to get out—anywhere that was out. People shouted and fell out of my way. I burst through a window and fell.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

I woke up to Peggy petting my hair. I was still in my suit, so I must have gotten home somehow. I cracked my eye, letting in her and the afternoon sunlight.

“Hey Peter...”

“You knew...” I said, voice cracking and dry.

Her expression softened, eyes glistening.

“You knew Pop before. When you were both once the same age,” I accused, heart breaking. My parents were Captain America and Iron Man. The heroes who died to save the world.

“I knew,” she rasped. “I'm sorry, baby boy, I knew.”

“Don't call me that,” I croaked. “Only Dad was allowed to call me that...”

“I'm so sorry...” she said, tears sneaking down her cheeks. Her hand never stopped in my hair.

I shifted and curled myself onto her lap, crying. “Why didn't anyone tell me!”

“They wanted you safe.”

“Dad said he was done being Iron Man! He'd given it up!”

“He didn't want you to be a target.”

Each question I threw at her, calmly replied. Until we were both quiet.

“I wish you wouldn't go out at night, Peter...”

I lifted my head. “You knew?”

“Jarvis monitors you all the time, Peter. Keeps track when you're in the house, out of the house... Knows where you are.”

“Traitor...” I muttered.

“Sorry, Sir,” Jarvis said.

“No you're not.”

“No, Sir. I exist for your safety.”

My heart warmed at the thought. My one last bit of Dad's paranoia. My eyes pricked again. “So they died when the Chitauri invaded...”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Saving the world?”

“Of course.”

I nodded on Aunt Peggy's lap. “And no one knows?”

“Only the people who matter.”

I sat suddenly. “Oh God! That means Aunt Pepper knows!” I scowled.

Peggy laughed quietly. “We were all told to not tell you, sweetheart. She'd have told you.”

“Keeping me safe,” I said bitterly, rolling my eyes.

“Yes, dear.” She reached out and pulled me in for a hug. “Now, if you're going to follow in your fathers' footsteps, I suggest you be careful, and please, _please_ , Peter, let me know where you expect yourself to be.” She pulled back and gripped my shoulders with a twinkle in her bright eyes. “So I can either confirm or deny it if need be.”

A smile tugged, reluctant, at my lips. “Okay. And Aunt Peggy...?”

“Yes dear?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Peter. Now how about some hot cocoa.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that...”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Two months later, the Avengers were having a bit of trouble, so I dropped by.

“Spider-Man, get out of here,” Black Widow yelled at me, taking down a creepy-ass robot.

“Heey! Bug boy's here!” Clint said, dropping down from...somewhere.

“Whatever,” I said breezily. “You guys need me. So. Gonna accept the help, or not?” I snapped two of the weird robots together with well placed webs and turned, hand on my hip.

Natasha frowned at me, a smile eventually evident in the deepening of the corners of her mouth. “I think this one might be useful,” she said.

“Are you certain?” Thor said as he dropped down next to her.

She folded her arms. “Are you ready, kid?”

“Not a kid,” I protested. “And yeah. I think I can inherit the name.” She knew who I was. But then... I knew who she was. So we were sort of even. If you didn't count her incredible poker face, her guns, knives, crazy killing-ninja skills, and her hair. But yeah. Totally even.

She fired over my shoulder and gave me a nod. “Consider this your initiation.”

“Wait, what, seriously?” Hawkeye complained, firing between Thor's legs, making the big man glare at Clint a bit.

“Yes. We owe him,” she said lowly. “Alright, Avengers. You read for this?”

The question was directed at me. I nodded. “Yes. And it's Spider-Man, thanks.”

“Good. Thor, overhead with the lightning, drop Hawkeye up top somewhere after he's collected his arrows. Spider-Man. Take-down, trap, restrict as many as you can. They are airborne if motivated. Swing around two streets in every direction and set up a fence of sorts to keep them penned in. Someone find the Hulk and make sure he knows _not_ to squash bug-boy and keep smashing Doom bots. Clear?”

“Copy,” Hawkeye said.

“Affirmative,” Thor echoed.

“Sounds like a good game to me,” I said, shooting web up at a traffic light.

“Spider-Man,” Natasha said.

I paused before I kicked off. Caught what she tossed at me. A headset.

“If you make? Welcome to the team. Good to have a Stark back on the team.”

I grinned and kicked into the air. Once more into the breach.


End file.
